I apologize If I forgot To Say Good Night
by TheBeastYouMadeOfMe
Summary: Marti can't sleep. Savannah/Marti pre-slash/femslash fluff- already, I KNOW, it's only been the pilot episode! Title taken from Storm Large's song "Lullabye."


Title: I apologize If I forgot To Say Good Night

Rating: K+ (PG)

Pairing: Savannah/Marti

Summary: Marti can't sleep. pre-slash/femslash Fluff- already, I KNOW, it's only been the pilot episode! Title taken from Storm Large's song "Lullabye."

* * *

She can't sleep.

It's not necessarily unusual for Marti to be restless. She generally has so much on her mind—school, paying for school, tests, her mom—that even when her body is so physically spent, – a very literal heap of sore muscles and aching bones— her mind is still abuzz with the _what-ifs_ and _hows_ and _whys_ of her days, or on particularly bad nights—such as tonight—of her entire existence.

This particular bout of restlessness is different though because now, she has a roommate—and not just any roommate, but one who wakes up at an ungodly hour of the morning to go to the gym.

She's trying to be as quiet as possible in her insomnia but every time she shifts, a bone cracks and echoes loudly into the dark hazy stillness of the room, or the bed dips and the soft creak bounces off of the poster ridden walls. Even the soft rustling of her pillow is amplified in the shared space.

Marti is hyperaware of her every movement, so focused on trying not to make noise that she really shouldn't be surprised when she hears a sleepily rasped, "Jesus, Marti!"

_Shouldn't be_.

Her limbs twitch, and her heart races so hard at the utterance that she can actually feel her chest pounding against the cool sheets. She would probably clutch her chest if the movement wouldn't entice more muscle soreness.

She hears the click and electric whizzing of the lamp as Savannah flicks it on, but she is wholly unprepared for the barrage of brightness that shines on her like an unwanted spotlight. She squeezes her eyes shut, smothering her face in her pillows.

"Sorry," she mumbles against the fluff of the pillow.

She hears a sigh, soft and relenting, and thinks that maybe Savannah will just go back to sleep. The light doesn't shut off though, and, this is not weird or anything, but Marti can kind of differentiate between the soft, shallow breaths Savannah makes when she's sleeping as opposed to the shorter, more pointed ones when she's awake—like now.

Marti shifts, gingerly turning to lie on her side. She blinks her eyes open against the light, and _wow_, the light, as glaringly evil as it is right now, is softer in its illumination of Savannah. To her, it may be serving as an evil, interrogating spotlight, but it's providing such a soft glowing backdrop to Savannah that for a quick instant, Marti wishes she were more of the artsy type so she could somehow put the beauty of this observation into words.

"What's wrong?"

The softly spoken words pierce into the imperceptible soundtrack of Savannah's breathing and Marti's surprisingly not slowing heart rate.

Savannah is looking at her expectantly—just expectantly, not the least bit unkindly—like she expects Marti to just unload on her.

And for some reason,—Marti can't even begin to fathom it herself— she does.

"I dunno." She sighs out, mostly into the air. "I guess I'm just stressed, nervous, trying to get used to all this," she averts her eyes, like she's revealed something big; like she wasn't just telling this same girl less than a week ago about her alcoholic mother, and her mostly neglected childhood.

"Hey," Savannah says so softly that it's almost a whisper, almost just an exhalation of breath.

It serves its purpose though, because eye contact is regained, and Marti knows that Savannah really won't talk to people who won't look her in the eye. It's not even some kind of malignant power-trip or anything; she just likes to know that someone is _there _with her, and Marti gets that; she gets that more than anyone.

"It's tough for all the new girls." Savannah says, and there something fierce in her eyes, like maybe she can shoot Marti with the courage to this. _Maybe she can_. "You're different; you've taken to it better than people who have been here for months. You'll get through this, k?"

It's not really a question; Marti knows that; it's stated like fact, like something that Savannah knows, like something that Marti should know.

Marti sighs.

"Not everyone can be so blindly optimistic like you," she says, and it's not to be unkind; she kind of really admires that about the Cheer Captain. She finds the good in everything, and everyone; if that wasn't the case, then Marti wouldn't be here.

Savannah actually chuckles; a soft, melodic sound.

"Yeah, well, not everyone can be as terribly blunt as you. Especially on this squad. Always optimistic; it's a rule; right next to no grouchiness, but you're failing that one hardcore right now,"

Marti cracks a small smile.

"Can you blame me?"

"Yes." Her answer is instant, but there's a hint of teasing to her words.

"And I'm the blunt one?" Marti scoffs playfully.

Savannah purses her lips, but smiles none the less.

"Come here," she requests, and it actually catches Marti off guard.

"What?" she asks, dully.

"Come here," Savannah repeats.

Marti rolls her eyes.

"If you're going to write optimism on my forehead, I can kind of do without that. Thanks though,"

"I would have written it somewhere more unobtrusive than that." Savannah says matter-of-factly. "But seriously, come,"

Marti groans, but ignores the protests of her body and rolls out of bed immediately. She shuffles quietly between the small space between their beds, until she's hovering over Savannah hesitantly.

"Yes?" she rasps quietly, completely unsure of what to expect.

Savannah shifts backwards a bit, flipping the bed quilt up and patting the now unoccupied space that seems almost perfectly molded for Marti.

Marti doesn't move though, even though eyes are trained heavily on her, inviting her in.

Marti thinks she should decline, thinks that this should be weird on so many levels, but Savannah is looking at her expectantly—warmly—and Marti decides to just go for it.

She slips quietly into the unoccupied space, still warm from Savannah's body heat, and faces the wall. She feels Savannah move behind her; feels as Savannah leans over her to flick the lamp off and plunges the room back into darkness.

It's not as unsettling as before. Now, instead of being hyperaware of her own movements, Marti is hyperaware of Savannah's. She hears and feels the soft warming energy flowing off of Savannah as she sinks back into the sheets. She feels the almost hesitant moment of decision when Savannah shuffles closer, her body molding to Marti's like a second skin. She feels to her very core, the moment of resoluteness when Savannah slinks her lean arm around Marti's waist, soft, velvety skin brushing feather-like across Marti's abs where her shirt has ridden up just enough to make contact meaningful. And she feels, more than hears, the shaky rasp of breath puff against the back of her neck as Savannah whispers, "sleep, ok?" punctuating the whispered utterance with the even softer press of lips, just enough that Marti feels it and draws the warmth and courage she needs to resign herself to a night of rest.

The End. Review please, if only to flail about how gay for each other Savannah and Marti obviously are.


End file.
